


Comfort

by OtterAndTerrier



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 05:59:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4379918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OtterAndTerrier/pseuds/OtterAndTerrier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of all things, right now she misses her <i>cat</i>. It's stupid, really. But there's someone who doesn't think it's stupid at all, and he's there for her when she needs him most.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> I have thought many times of Crookshanks’ fate while Hermione was gone, and I’m sure Ginny took good care of him but, as a cat owner and lover, I can’t help but think Hermione would have missed him very much and been sad about parting with him. And Ron would have comforted her about it. Gosh I love DH so much!

As far as the days in that gloomy tent went, Hermione reckoned today had been a good one. Early in the morning, under the cover of darkness and the Invisibility Cloak, Harry and she had visited another farm for more eggs and a small loot of various vegetables. She had fixed lunch with part of it, careful to make it last till dinner. She knew it wouldn’t be enough for more than another day. The portions were so small they were barely fulfilling, but it was better than nothing.

And it was what made all the difference as far as Ron was concerned. She was worried about him more than she was for Harry. She’d seen something flicker in his eyes that she didn’t like. It had scared her.

The Ron keeping her company now while Harry sat outside was his old self, though. They sat in companionable silence as they sipped their tea, one of the few things she’d brought, food-wise. That would last, but it was no nourishment.

The day had been so good and she thought she felt so at ease, that Hermione felt a twinge of anger at herself when her vision blurred at an unexpected memory.

‘Hermione? What’s wrong?’ Ron called from across the table almost at once, sounding concerned. Had he been watching her?

She blinked back the tears and quickly looked up, smiling as she made the briefest of eye-contacts to show that she was fine.

‘Nothing, it’s just the steam from the mug… made me teary for a second.’

Ron kept staring at her, though; Hermione felt a blush creeping up her face and wondered whether she could blame that on the tea, too.

‘Are you sure? You looked… well, sad.’

Hermione kept her eyes trained on Ron’s hand on the table, inches from hers, to avoid looking at him. It made her caught the way his hand suddenly twitched, as if he had been about to touch her but had restrained himself. Why had he? He had been so… physical during the last weeks she’d spent at The Burrow, even after, in Grimmauld Place. Or maybe now she was imagining that he’d meant to hold her hand. She seemed to imagine a lot of things lately.

‘Is it your parents?’ Ron asked carefully.

Hermione let out a shaky laugh.

‘No, actually. I… no, never mind.’

‘What is it?’ he insisted, looking more intently at her.

‘It’s stupid. You’ll laugh—‘

‘I won’t. I promise.’

She sighed.

‘Fine. Today, at the farm, I saw a cat. It was nothing like him, but it… it made me think about Crookshanks.’

She traced the circumference of her mug with a finger.

‘I should be missing my parents… and I do! But I also miss Crookshanks. And I made sure that my parents won’t even know I’m gone, that I’m gone right now, I mean. But Crookshanks knows I’ve left. Will he be safe? Will he always wait for me to come back, even if I—’

The knot in her throat made her stop. She took a deep breath and exhaled, but her next words hurt as they passed through her throat.

‘I didn’t even get to say goodbye. I didn’t know—’

She couldn’t keep going. Two large tears escaped her eyes and slid down her cheeks, landing wetly on the collar of her jumper, but Hermione was distracted by the pressure on her hand. Ron was grabbing it now; his large hand covered her own almost completely as he squeezed it.

‘None of us did,’ Ron said quietly. ‘He’ll be fine, though, Ginny will take care of him. Until you come back, that is.’

It didn’t hurt her, but Hermione thought Ron was squeezing a little more than it would have been necessary. She looked up at him and he seemed to realize. He straightened up with a start (he had been peering down at her through her wayward hair) and softened his grip, but he didn’t let go of her hand.

‘I’m sorry,’ Hermione blurted at last. ‘I know how stupid it sounds. I’m worrying and talking about my cat when you’re here thinking about your family. I shouldn’t have brought it up.’

She did want to slap herself as soon as she realized that. Her family was protected, as safe as she thought they would be. Ron’s family, though capable of defending themselves, was still in danger, and he didn’t know where or how they were. And she was making a fuss about her cat!

It would have made her laugh if it wasn’t for the fact that she still felt like crying. Yes, it was a cat, but it was _her_ cat. It was Crookshanks, who had accepted her as his companion, who had stayed with her when her two friends were being thick, who curled up on her lap when she was feeling down.

Hermione felt so guilty about still wanting to cry for Crookshanks that she had the urge to get away from Ron. Somehow, though, his hand holding on to hers was like an anchor, stopping her from leaving. As if to make up for squeezing too hard, he was now brushing his thumb in an absent-minded way against the back of her wrist.

‘It’s okay,’ he said. ‘It’s not stupid. It’s Crookshanks.’

Ron gave her a lopsided smile that for a moment made her forget how much paler than usual he still was under his freckles, that he was already looking thinner, and that the circles under his eyes had become a permanent thing…

‘To be honest, I miss that bloody fur ball, too. And Pig. I wish he was here, annoying us all by flying ‘round our heads, making some noise. It’s awfully quiet.’

Hermione smiled gratefully at him and covered their joined hands with her left one.

Ron had changed so much in the last few months, after the attack at Hogwarts. She supposed that was what war did to you: it made you grow up fast, do things you wouldn’t have even considered before. He hadn’t always been quite this patient and comforting to her, but he had grown to be, from the small gestures, over the last few years, when he knew she needed it.

_This_ was her Ron. This was the Ron she had to remember when Harry finally came into the tent to pass the locket to her, as Hermione prepared for the hours of darkness and despair that would follow from carrying that trapped piece of Voldemort’s soul so close to her own.

This Ron, in one way or another, loved her. That was all she needed to know.


End file.
